Heat
by madelinesticks
Summary: Welcome To Night Vale. I was requested for wing!kink, but there have also been requests for heat going around, and I can so totally work with that. Cue desperate!Cecil.


It was every six months or so that it happened. Cecil would get out of bed in the morning and he'd be soaked in his own sweat, sweat with a purplish sheen, and he'd need. His skin would burn with it, he'd be soaked and open and ready, his tail would fidget and move and even that was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hands would be shaking, his tattoos wouldn't stop moving at half the speed of sound, and his cock would be half hard without even the slightest of touches and Cecil would need to get fucked.

It was early morning when Cecil woke from a sleep he'd tossed and turned in, and he couldn't help but whine to himself. The faceless old woman who lived in his house made no comment: she'd seen this happen before, and she knew what came next.

Usually, Cecil would go into town and to the public health centre, where he would be supplied with appropriate... Satiation. Cecil drummed his fingers on the counter, taking in a heavy breath. But he was set to meet Carlos tonight. Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect Carlos. He couldn't miss that.

Cecil pulled on clothes, tried to pick anything loose so none of the fabric would rub tantalizingly against his skin and make him squirm, but even when he was careful that always happened. He was quick in walking to the station, because fuck, people could smell it on him, the scent strong and embarrassing.

Damn his Godforsaken cycle. He was antsy all through the show, trying his best not to show it but being unable to keep himself from fidgeting in his chair. He needed it. It was like an itch under his skin, that craving, he just felt so damn empty.

And Carlos texted him once the broadcast was over. "We still on for tonight?" And this was their third date, and Cecil wished he had the strength, the responsibility, to text him back and say that no, no he needed to go for some medical things, but it was fine, that was just recommended for someone in heat.

You could totally go without getting fucked. Sure.

"Yes." But God, Cecil was so empty. His own lubricant had soaked into his slacks, and he just felt so wet, so empty, he just needed to be fucked full. He walked to Carlos', ignored the interested and curious looks from people like Telley the barber and Steve Carlsburg, as though he'd let someone like that touch him, heat or no.

Cecil stumbled up the stairs to Carlos' apartment, grabbing a little more desperately at the bannister than he would have any other day, another other normal day, and scrambled up the stairs. He pounded on the door, and Carlos opened it to give him a bright beam.

"Cecil! You still want to go bowling, right?" Cecil couldn't help but stare at him. Carlos' perfect, beautiful hair looked so nice, so touchable, so gorgeous, and Carlos' stubble would feel so good on Cecil's jaw, and Cecil shivered. Carlos' nostrils flared as he took in a small inhalation. "What's that smell? It's so sweet..."

Oh, even Carlos could scent it on him. "I'm i-i-in heat." Carlos blinked at him.

"Heat? Like-" He furrowed his brow. "Like- er, um, uh, m-mating?" Cecil whimpered in the most pathetic of ways (God, this was even more embarrassing that Neat!, oh why didn't he go to the health centre?)

"This- I need- I need- I should g-go to the, um, health- health centre-"

"Do you get pregnant?"

"What? No, I d-don't have a uterus, I just- I need-"

"I could, um, help you." Cecil stared at Carlos, third eye blinking in the centre of his forehead at about twice the speed of his other two, his mouth wide open.

"Oh, God, really?" Carlos gave a soft nod, and God, bless his pretty lips. Now, Cecil needed them on his. He rocketed forwards and kicked the door closed behind him, and Carlos whimpered against his mouth as Cecil began to kiss him hungrily, biting at Carlos' lips and making the scientist mewl. There was no skill, no finesse: it was desperate and sloppy and Cecil was needy and Carlos had never felt anything hotter.

Carlos grabbed Cecil by the shirt and pulled him back, pulled him back into the bedroom and stumbled over his own feet, gave soft little sounds against Cecil's mouth. "Take off your clothes." He said, and Cecil yowled, the sound animalistic, and he tore at his own shirt and pulled it off, wriggled out of his slacks after he kicked off his own shoes with a desperate impatience.

Carlos forgot himself, couldn't help but just stare at Cecil's naked body, at the way his cock was half hard between his legs, at the wet slick that soaked the insides of his thighs, at the sheen of purple to his sweat-soaked body. And that scent, God, it was sweet and with a hint of cinnamon, and Carlos' cock was hard in his jeans at the cloy of it in his nose.

"**Clothes**." Cecil growled, and Carlos came to, pulling his shirt up and over his head, kicking off his sneakers and scrambling out of his jeans. He rubbed his own arm, a little nervous, because Cecil had never seen him naked before and he wasn't exactly pretty like Cecil was and he wasn't as thin and he had more body hair and- "God, you're perfect." Oh.

Cecil grabbed him and threw him backwards onto the bed, and Carlos couldn't help but take in a desperate little breath at the show of strength, because wow, wow wow wow, he hadn't really thought about how strong Cecil might be but Cecil had lifted him like he weighed nothing at all.

And then Cecil flared out his arms and what the fuck was he- Oh, God, they weren't arms at all. They were wings, wings, fuck, wings. Cecil's tail swung out widely, and shit, his wings were the same dark red as the tail, covered over in thick feathers over the muscled limbs beneath.

"I didn't know you had wings." Carlos whispered, taken aback by how sheerly gorgeous they were. They were beautiful, coming out from Cecil's shoulders and spanning out, and he must have a wingspan of at least ten feet.

"I didn't know you had a happy trail." Cecil returned in much the same worshipful tone, and Carlos' cheeks flushed scarlet. He scrambled forwards and onto the bed, straddling Carlos' thighs, and then his hand was rapid on Carlos' cock to work him to hardness, and Cecil was whimpering and fuck, shit, Carlos didn't realize at first but so was he.

Carlos was hard soon enough, because sweet Gods Cecil was arousing, and there was a very skilled hand on his cock, but then Cecil was lowering himself onto Carlos' cock, throwing his head back and looking like he was trying to stop himself from screaming.

Carlos empathized. His cock was encased in hot soaked tightness, so fucking tight, shit, and Cecil was so hot and not even hot in the "oh yes how pretty" way but actually full of sun-brazen heat, and Carlos couldn't help but grab at the sheets and drop his head back when Cecil clenched around him.

Cecil was whining. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Carlos was so much bigger than he'd anticipated. "So big." He whimpered, and he didn't see Carlos' eyes go wide and the blush on his cheeks darken because all he could think of was how thick the scientist's cock was, how it made him fucking burn to take it, how he felt fucked full, more full than he had for his past six heats.

Cecil wanted to cry, overwhelmed by how fucking big Carlos was, and he could only wonder if Carlos could see his own cock bulging at Cecil's midriff - and no, Carlos didn't, God, that would be ridiculous what an embarrassing thought - and yowl his pleasure. He stayed still for a few moments, letting himself adjust to the other's surprising size, and his wings quivered in warning of what was about to happen.

Carlos gasped as Cecil's wings flared out, knocking Carlos' bedside lamp onto the floor where it smashed, but Carlos couldn't care. He reached up, put one hand on Cecil's hip as though the other man needed steadying and grabbed at Cecil's cock with his other hand, and Cecil gave a cry of pleasure, desperation, neediness.

Cecil dropped forwards, put his hands either side of Carlos' head, and began to roll his hips down against Carlos' dick, to take it, take it inside him, feel it. He was still burning with need, but fuck, the feel of the hand on his cock helped, shit. All three of Cecil's eyes were closed, and he'd wound his tail around his own thigh to keep it from whipping around behind him.

Carlos could see Cecil's face, see how blissful he looked, and oh God, he was not going to last.

And yet, after a while, Cecil came first. His come was nearly lilac, and it spattered across Carlos' stomach more than Cecil's own. Cecil didn't stop fucking himself down. Carlos came soon enough, and Cecil kept moving, but Carlos turned them over so that he was no longer on the bottom.

Cecil gave a sound of desperate loss when Carlos pulled out, looking about ready to cry his eyes out with his wings curled around his shoulders. "No, Cecil, sorry, I can- you gotta gimme a few minutes to recover." Carlos murmured, and then he fucked forwards with his fingers, three of them, and Cecil gave a whine.

"Another, please, please, please, just one more-" Carlos obeyed, adding his fourth finger and beginning to fuck Cecil with them, and shit, he was tight, but he was so wet it was easy and that was all he could think of, how fucking slick he was, how the slick had stained his thighs as well and made the skin slippery with it.

Cecil's tattoos were moving and swirling over his torso, his shoulders, his arms, and Cecil's thighs and wings were shaking like leaves in the whispering Night Vale breeze, and Cecil was giving short, grunted sounds that Carlos really loved the sound of.

He dipped his head and licked a stripe up Cecil's cock, and God, fuck, whose cock tasted like that? Cecil was as sweet as anything with that cinnamon kick Carlos had smelled on the air as soon as he came to his apartment, and Carlos wanted more of it, sucked hard at the base of his cock, at the head of it, before pressing up and swallowing Cecil's cock into his mouth, deepthroating it as best he could.

Cecil gave a scream of sound he only muffled half of against the pillow, bucking his hips up for more. "Carlos, please!" He cried, and Carlos hummed, bobbing his head and doing his best to make the other man whine. Cecil was giving desperate little pants when he came a second time, and then, fuck, Carlos fucked into him with his cock again.

Carlos wasn't sure how long they went on for, but it was only after Cecil had come four or five times, and his cock was barely sputtering and not giving any more come at all, and only then did Cecil stop begging for Carlos to keep fucking him, dropped back on the bed and gave a soft, happy little sound.

"How often does this happen?" Carlos asked sleepily, resting his head on Cecil's thigh as if it were a pillow and looking up to meet Cecil's eyes. Cecil's wings shifted, and for a few moments the radio presenter looked a little nervous.

"Twice a year." He mumbled. Carlos gave a soft giggle that sounded more than a little relieved.

"Oh, good. I love the marathon sex, Cecil, it's just a little much for a guy like me." Cecil beamed at him, and, in invitation, he spread his wings out a little.

"Come here." He pulled Carlos closer, so Carlos' head was laid comfortably on his chest, and then he curled his wings in. Carlos gave a sound of soft surprise at the feeling of thick feathers on his back, and at their sudden darkness. The wings created a cocoon of warmth and safety, and Carlos took in a soft inhalation.

"Do all members of Night Vale go into heat?"

"Some do, some don't." Cecil said lightly. It wasn't evasive: he just didn't seem to really care. Carlos nodded slowly, and then he closed his eyes. "Are you going to sleep, my gorgeous Carlos?"

"Yeah, you've exhausted me." Cecil beamed.

"I have?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Oh, great!" Carlos chuckled against Cecil's chest as he settled down to sleep.


End file.
